


Born Sick

by MewlingQuim



Category: Manhattan - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Atomic bombs, Christmas, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Los Alamos, M/M, Manhattan Project, Military, Military base, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MewlingQuim/pseuds/MewlingQuim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fergus MacLeod, also known as Crowley, is a Scottish physicist during WWII working on The Manhattan Project in Los Alamos, New Mexico. He works alongside Dr. Frank Winter and his band of ragtag scientists as they work on building an atomic bomb. However, as a confirmed bachelor, Crowley notices a soldier by the name of Dean Winchester on the base and he sticks in his mind- and heart- as they discover who they are while trying to not be discovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just another scientist.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my best to stay in the 40s and the WWII era.  
> I know a bit about it, and I've watched the show Manhattan, which this is crossing over with, but I hope you all enjoy!

“The British are coming.” One of the soldiers said to Crowley as he’d passed him up in the public mess hall. Los Alamos really wasn’t the greatest place in the world, but the Scottish physicist had worked his arse off to get to where he was and he was only there thanks to Frank Winter, the head of the project he was working on. Usually he passed up these morons, none of them had enough brainpower to even entertain him for ten seconds, but with the recent problems regarding the mathematics for the Gadget, Crowley was on edge and everything tested his patience. He turned and glared at the man, noticing his green eyes and how they shone through the grey of their uniforms so well, before he spoke up.  
“I’m bloody Scottish, you ignorant prat.” He managed to hiss out at the man, who began to turn slightly red at the reaction he’d gotten out of the physicist. Without another word, Crowley took the tray and dropped it off in the window for the dish washers to take. He was tired of people like that and besides, lunch time was over. 

The Scotsman knew that he should’ve just had lunch at the office. Stick with Paul Crosley, who was constantly on his ass about having similar names. Crowley was just a nickname, though. His actual name was Fergus Macleod, he just hated his first name. At least he could talk about decent European things, well, that was when Paul wasn’t talking about Helen.  
“Oi, Fergs.” The Englishman said the moment Crowley had sat down at his own desk, though that was short lived as he glanced up to his chalkboard and noticed a mistake. Hopefully that was the one mistake he’d been working on all week. “Don’t talk to me, I’m thinking.” Crowley said quickly to Paul as he scribbled across the board, plugging in numbers to their proper spots.  
He didn’t even notice that Paul had come up behind him, standing with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed as he watched Crowley’s hand move. “The soldiers rile you up again, mate?” He asked only to see Crowley shrug. “Of course. I swear you go there to have them get you in an off mood.”  
No. No, that wasn’t why Crowley went. However, he couldn’t just come out and say that he went there because he liked to sneak a peek of the muscle in Los Alamos. Being a ‘Confirmed’ Bachelor, well, that wasn’t really the bee’s knees. “I go in there to eat.” Crowley said as he sat the chalk down and turned back around to Paul. “Really, Crosley, why would I want them to irritate me?”

Their conversation was short lived, however, due to the fact that Dr. Winter had appeared in the office, narrowing his eyes at Crowley’s chalk board, obviously noticing the change. “Figured it out, MacLeod?” He asked, though he hadn’t stayed long enough for Crowley to tell him his changes. Frank had rushed out of the main office and into his own to work on his own things. 

“No, but the blast zone is so high that there’d be nothing living for miles. So, there’s that.” Crowley argued, his voice rough as his ochre eyes glanced down to the dark haired scientist who bounced along beside him. She wasn’t his cuppa, really, but she was pretty enough. Though she did belong to Crosley, and Crowley belonged to the manly side of things.  
“Yeah, but if the math was tweaked just a bit, then there could be a larger or smaller radius.” Helen countered in a matter of fact tone, grinning up to Crowley. “And you have the potential to do that.”  
“Yeah, when Frank isn’t pushing me to do this bit of implosion. You know that I’m up against Issacs.”  
“And you’re better than Issacs.”  
“Oh, I know.”  
The duo’s conversation had come to a quick close as they approached the checkpoint to get into the living area. The checkpoint was there for obvious reasons. There didn’t need to be any espionage happening or sharing the work with the Little Boy crew, considering they were working on the same thing, only they had more grants, things to work with, and people believing in them. 

“Hey.” The voice behind Crowley was rough, nicely gravelly, and it nearly made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at how wonderful it sounded. Though, it sounded familiar, and that’s when the physicist turned around to see the green eyed man from earlier. Fuck. This wasn’t good, not since the other man was considerably larger than he was. Taller. His body muscular whereas Crowley was shorter than him at 5’10 and he was also a bit stocky.  
Crowley automatically handed out his bag, knowing that it was the soldiers who searched their things for items that weren’t allowed into the living area. It was odd when the soldier had shaken his head and nodded to the side so they could speak away from the line. Helen looked over, her brow furrowed as she began to worry about her friend’s well being, though she knew that Crowley was a big boy, he could help himself if he needed to. He glanced back to Helen and nodded towards the checkpoint. He’d be there when he could, though he was certain she had other things to tend to, so he decided he’d just see her tomorrow at work.  
It was odd to be following a soldier to the side, especially one who looked that good in that outfit. ‘No, Crowley, stop.’ He scolded himself for even thinking that way. There was a certain shame to having homosexual tendencies. However, Crowley couldn’t help that he felt so good when being bad, and a small smirk had appeared on his lips which disappeared only moments after the soldier had paused and began to turn around.  
“Look, I feel bad for what I said earlier.” The soldier said, deciding he wasn’t going to pussyfoot around the fact he had said something that was potentially harmful. He said it, even if the guys at the table were pushing him to do it, and now he felt like what he had done was wrong and it was eating away at his insides. Hell, he didn’t even know the man.  
“It’s quite all right, you Americans can barely tell the difference in accents.” Crowley spat out, a bit more hostile than he should’ve done. The shorter man let out a soft sigh and took a step back. “It is all right though.” He repeated, looking away from the soldier.  
“Winchester.” The soldier said, extending his hand. “Dean.”  
Crowley looked over to Dean’s hand before reaching out and taking it, giving him a firm handshake while nodding. That was manly enough, correct? He nearly laughed at his own thoughts, he was, in fact, a man and he was, in fact, manly enough for nearly anything. Or so Crowley liked to think that. “Dr. Fergus MacLeod.” He introduced himself before taking back his hand. “However, Crowley is what I prefer to go by.” He hoped Dean wouldn’t ask him why, because Crowley certainly wasn’t up to explaining why he liked to be called Crowley.  
The New Mexico air was dry and there was always a soft bite of cold on the wind when night began to fall. It was much different than Scotland, or even England, which Crowley lived for a while. However, at that very moment, the Scotsman had to say that the gentle blowing of the wind had enveloped him as he turned his eyes up to Dean’s green ones. This man was too handsome for his own good, he was speaking, and Crowley was zoned out, dazed, and couldn’t move his eyes from Dean’s.  
“Are you all right?” Dean asked, a small hint of concern in his voice. “Hey. Snap out of it, man.” He said, snapping and stepping back from the man before flashing a grin at him when he noticed. “You should probably run along and get some rest. Being a doctor must be hard work.”  
Crowley wasn’t about to argue that point. It didn’t matter what sort of doctor he was, it was a rather tiresome career. “Thank you for apologizing, and it was nice to meet you.” He said before turning and walking back over to the checkpoint, swiftly getting through after the other soldiers had checked his things.


	2. Every scientist takes a risk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week after Dean's apology to Crowley, a few of the scientists went out for a test run on an explosive. Little did they know that there was a bit of an error, leading to a terrible accident.

A week or so passed and Crowley’s formula was ready to be put to the test. Thankfully they had inside men in the other building, someone to hand over the explosives when they needed it. They were out in the desert, twenty miles or so from the actual base, and the air was hot. The scientist was sweating in his suit, his waistcoat begging to be unbuttoned while his white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. This was so unlike Europe, he thought.  
“Ready, Crow?” Paul called out from the ignition.  
“Yes, quite.” The Scottish scientist replied before tugging down the safety glasses and holding the clipboard in a tight grip as he watched from the safe area as Crosley ran over to stand beside him. Frank was in the background, letting the foreign boys do all of the leg work, as he always was, unless it was most important to him. This should’ve been important to him, but he hadn’t even given Crowley the time of day to explain his work to him. Dr. Frank Winter. Smarter than everyone. Oh, he knew it too.  
There was a soft rumble in Crowley’s stomach as he felt his nerves fluttering around in there. He held onto the clipboard watching as the lit fuse got closer to the explosives. It was like a comic strip in the funny bits of the newspaper, though those were filled with propaganda nowadays. Bloody Hitler.  
‘Five… four… three… two… one…’ The physicist thought, letting out a rough and discouraged noise as the explosives didn’t blow. Well, this was a disappointment, and Crowley didn’t dare turn to look at Frank to see what his reaction was. Failure. Everything he did. He was a bloody failure and there was nothing to be done about that. He’d just defect back to bloody London and work in an office over there, if even that.  
Crowley sighed and turned around as the desert wind blew a warm breeze against the scientists. Thankfully that was cooling his sticky, sweat covered skin. He decided to trudge along towards the bomb, figuring it had been long enough since it should’ve been ignited for safety measures, which would allow him to disarm it.  
The dirt crunched below his feet, his shoes scuffed from the constant trekking around the desert had made the sound much worse than what it was.  
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Sizzle.  
Wait, what was sizzling? Something wasn’t right, and Crowley noticed it too late. 

Dean Winchester hadn’t ever been assigned to much more than being an army doctor, or an army nurse. He didn’t like that term, though. It sounded too effeminate for him. ‘Now you’re just being silly.’ The man thought as he carried the charts around to the doctor.  
“Dr. Adelman, I’ve got the last assessment for those on the Gadget crew.” He said, setting the folders down on the doctor’s desk.  
“Ah- did everything look normal?” Dr. Adelman asked, twitching slightly as there was an explosion in the distance.  
Dean turned to look out of the window, seeing the light flash and watching as the dust blew every which way. He glanced back to the doctor, green eyes closing as he nodded. If normal was the start of radiation poisoning, sure, it was normal. For a moment the soldier thought that he should speak up, ask the doctor about the radiation. It was a huge secret, and as a soldier, he knew that. “Everything’s just peachy.” He said with a small grin, though inside he was worried about these scientists.  
Dr. Adelman dismissed Dean, telling him that his day of work would be up once he finished up his bit of paperwork. He nodded and left from the room, shutting the door. There Dean was, roaming the small hall of the tiny hospital. The explosion he heard earlier had worried him much more than any one before.  
The hall was darkened, the air stirred up and a bit of dust flew around. Dean absolutely hated Los Alamos for the fact that it was pure, dry heat. His skin felt like it’d just crack open if he didn’t slather himself with lotion each and every morning and night. The boys made fun at times, but hey, he didn’t give a damn. After last week, Dean didn’t think he’d give a damn again. He wasn’t going to listen to them assholes again. The horrible feeling that had settled in the soldier’s stomach hadn’t gone away since he teased the Scotsman, and he didn’t think it was going to.  
There was a sudden bang at the door and shouting coming from outside of the hospital, making Dean turn down the hall and rush to the door, pulling it open. “Doc!” He hollered, moving to help the men that was carrying the now mangled body of the scientist.  
Dean’s heart sped up as he helped carry the man to the operating room, unsure of what the doctor was going to do to him as he quickly began to cut the clothes off the man. 

The explosion was sudden and the scientist didn’t know what hit him. There was a ringing in his ear that made him feel queasy as he laid on the ground where he’d been blown back. He couldn’t feel half of his body, and the other half was filled with shrapnel and covered in scrapes. Bruises began to show on his body and his breathing was shallow. Soon after, Crowley closed his eyes and he let himself fall asleep.  
Crosley and Frank stood in pure shock, knowing it had been well past long enough for Crowley to have been safe enough to be by the bomb. The Englishman ran towards Crowley, hollering his name as he came to a sliding stop in the now loose dirt beside him, gathering the Scottish physicist into his arms. “Frank-! Frank we need the car! Get the bloody car!” He yelled, moving to stand as much as he could with Crowley’s body. “Hang on, mate, we’ll be good, you’ll be good.”  
Frank and Paul managed to get Crowley into the car and drove as fast as their vehicle would go back to the base. Though Frank didn’t really show it, he was worried half to death about Crowley. Not only because he was one of his best scientists, but because he was a friend, though he never expressed that to the man.  
The duo carried Crowley to the hospital door, Crosley managed to kick it, hollering for the doctor, or anyone. Crowley was the closest thing to a friend he had there, not that he didn’t like the others, and not that he didn’t love Helen, but no one else understood him. Everyone else was from America.  
Thankfully, the door to the hospital opened and one of the soldiers who worked there began to help Crowley. As soon as the Scotsman was taken to the back, Paul sat down on a bench and looked down to his bloodstained hands. He felt like this would be a long night. 

The worst of Crowley’s injuries were the shrapnel that littered the right side of his body and the concussion he suffered. There were minor burns along his torso, but nothing too serious. The pain medicine was wearing off and Crowley’s eyes slowly opened as he let out a whining groan. No one was in the room with him, and so the Scotsman just laid back and close his eyes again, breathing through the pain.  
The fuse had been wet in the spot where it burned slowly, making the time before the explosives ignited slow down. That was the sizzling noise that he heard, and it had been too late for him to run.  
The door knob to Crowley’s room rattled quietly as it was turned and his door opened. Dean stepped through, carrying a shot.  
“Hey there.” He said, grinning at Crowley as he walked towards him. “How’re ya feeling?” Dean’s green eyes swept over Crowley as the Scotsman’s eyes opened to take in the man who walked through the door.  
“Like Hell chewed me up and spat me on the floor.” Crowley croaked out as he gave the soldier a dry smile. ‘Like a knight in shining armor.’ Was the last thought that Dr. MacLeod had before the shot was coursing through his body.  
Dean smiled at the look on Crowley’s face. This man was beyond handsome, even when he was half beaten up. That feeling was back in his stomach and he cleared his throat once the man was back to sleep. There were all of these… feelings… that had begun to make their ways into Dean’s mind. He’d never been so turned on by a man before, not now, but when Crowley had turned his frustrations on him and stood up for himself? Yeah. That. That had really stirred up Dean’s mind and imagination, and if anyone, anyone at all knew about them he might as well kiss his military career goodbye.  
With that thought, Dean bit the inside of his lip so hard that it bled before he turned and left out of the room, glad that Crowley was alive.


	3. A new feeling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days after Crowley was in his accident, he was awake long enough to have a conversation with Dean about families and Christmas, of all things.

“Dean?” Crowley asked from the hospital bed as he glanced around the room. The walls were white, but stained with the dust from the desert, which didn’t seem too terribly hard to do all considered. Dean was seated in the chair in the corner of the room, his lab coat draped across his lap since he was off duty. The green eyed man glanced up to the scientist and smiled.  
“Yeah?” He asked, his own thoughts racing as his eyes took in Crowley’s tired ones.

“You’ve been taking care of me for days,” He managed to say though his eyes were heavy and he wasn’t sure where his voice was coming from. The medicine flowed through him, making him a bit drowsy. “Maybe you should tell me a wee bit ‘bout yourself, hm?”

Taken only slightly aback by the fact Crowley wanted to know more about him, the soldier straightened himself in the chair and cleared his throat. “Well, uh-” he began, “I guess that depends on what you’d wanna know.” Dean stated, his voice wavering slightly at the end as he tried to think of things that weren’t too terribly personal. Maybe he could keep this on a friendly level. He wasn’t one to just pour out his life on the table for everyone to see. 

Crowley shrugged the best he could. “You.” He murmured. Though he’d been doped up the entire time he was in the hospital, Crowley couldn’t help but to start to feel things for this American soldier. It was different. Not like he hadn’t slept with plenty of men or had a partner before, and he even doubted that Dean thought that way. Which was much worse than he’d let himself show. 

“Uh- well, um.” What could he tell him? This had been such an out of the blue question. “I’ve got a brother. Sammy. Sam. He’s a bit younger than me and he’s at college. Military isn’t really his thing.” Well, that was a start, wasn’t it? Talk about Sam, good. 

Dean was unsure he could talk about much more. Certainly not his mother or his father. But what about Castiel? Now that was a name he hadn’t thought of in a while, and he wasn’t even sure he could open up about that one. A soft sigh left the soldier’s lips as he closed his eyes and rested his chin on his hand, bright eyes staring at his patient.  
No one had visited Crowley, well, with the exception of Paul and Helen the first day. Apparently the explosive, though it had been delayed, had proven to be a small push in the right direction and they had to be at the office working on Crowley’s work while he was recovering.  
“Sam, huh?” Crowley asked as he opened his tired, ochre eyes to look at Dean. “I don’t have siblings. Just me and my mum. Or was just me and my mum. Now it’s just me.” He murmured, laying his head back against his pillow. 

That explained it. Crowley wasn’t married, he didn’t have any family there. Hell, the only people who were like his family just so happened to be the only people qualified to pick up his slack while he was laid up in a hospital bed. The thought nearly crushed Dean’s heart, which seemed to be a newer feeling to him. It was incredibly odd that he’d attached himself to this man. 

“Oh, yeah. Sammy. He’s a good kid, much better than me. Got a brain that’s quick as can be, ya know?” Of course he fucking knew, he was a scientist. Dean was being an idiot, and a bit of color flooded his face as he glanced down to the floor just in case Crowley happened to see.

The Scotsman grinned and let out a short, dry chuckle. “What’s he studying?” He asked, genuinely interested in Dean’s life, even if they were just going to talk about his brother. Though, he wasn’t sure anyone could be better than Dean. The man was, in fact, sitting in here with Crowley although he was off the clock. Just as he did for the past few days.  
“Law.” The tone in Dean’s voice was filled with nothing but pride as he spoke about his baby brother and it was written all over his face that he was happy and proud for Sam. Much more than their father had been. Though that was a different story. “Our father didn’t want Sam to go to college. He wanted him to join the army like me. They fight like cats’n dogs most times they’re together. You should see our Christmas.” The laugh that had pushed through Dean’s words had no humor in it at all and Crowley could just tell that that was a bad situation all around. 

Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated Christmas. ‘A Pagan celebrates Saturnalia, Fergus.’ His mother would tell him when he asked about Saint Nick each year. All other children around his neighborhood were always getting things for Christmas, but not poor ickle Fergy. He scoffed at the thought before shaking his head and looking to Dean. “I’ve never celebrated Christmas.” The man confessed, which he managed to receive a shocked look from the soldier. “What?” He asked, his tone a bit testy. Embarrassment coursed through Crowley’s veins and he closed his eyes, his neck and ears burning red. 

Dean felt a bit horrible at how Crowley questioned the look he gave him. He hadn’t meant it. Not the way that Crowley took it. “No-nothing, just-”  
“Just what? Don’t pity me. My mother was a different religion than everyone else, she didn’t care much for Christmas, Christ, or anything like that.” The wounded man snapped defensively, trying to hide his embarrassment. 

“Hey-” Dean said quietly, placing his coat on the side of the chair before he stood up and walked closer to the physicist. “I’m not judging, you just seem like you’d want a Christmas is all.” He placed his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed gently, his green eyes piercing down at the man.  
Crowley watched how Dean stood up and walked to him, his heart was pounding as the man came closer, and he could hardly hear the words he was saying. Did he want a Christmas? Well, yes, he always had, but where would he have begun? And Christmas was only a month away now. He had no one to spend it with, not like everyone else would have.  
‘Stay back. Stay away, Fergus, you’re going to get hurt. You’re going to hurt. This man will hurt you.’ His mind was screaming as his eyes wandered down Dean’s arm to look at the hand that was laid on his shoulder.  
This wasn’t good.  
“Dean-” He began, sinking into himself as he pulled his shoulder away from the American. ‘Oh no. Oh no, please no.’ His heart was betraying him as it beat faster, making his eyes open wide as his hazel ones stared up to Dean’s green eyes. 

‘Fuck.’ The soldier cursed himself, pulling his hand back and stepping back, the magic of his comforting Crowley disappearing as the wretched feeling of regret tried to settle in. He should’ve ignored whatever feeling this was, but he couldn’t help the somber look that had settled on Crowley’s face as he was explaining that they hadn’t celebrated Christmas. He couldn’t help the way his heart raced as he moved towards the man lying in the bed, or how he felt like Crowley’s voice could just lull him to utter relaxation.  
“I’m sorry, Crowley. I should go.” Dean’s voice was breathless as he bit down on his bottom lip, rushing to the corner to grab up his coat before dashing out of the room, smiling to the nurses and the doctor as though everything was all right. 

He hated feeling that way, and if the military ever knew that he felt any sort of way for other men, he might has well kiss his career goodbye, and if his father ever found out? He would have to kiss his life goodbye.

Since Dean had left, Crowley decided he’d curl up and let the medicine take him over and maybe he’d be able to sleep through the night. The truth was, he couldn’t even sleep without dreaming about Dean sitting over in the corner, smiling at him, speaking with him. Not making fun. Not giving him pity. Crowley overreacted, and he knew that.  
‘I hope he comes back.’ He thought, his eyes heavy as he closed them and let himself drift off into a deep sleep.


End file.
